


mercy, take your time

by breezered



Series: TLAU: The Last Alternate Universe [3]
Category: The Last of Us (Video Games)
Genre: F/F, but we draw our guns fast, cowboy/western au, saddle up, that's yeehaw au, we play fast and loose with historical facts here, yeehau
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:55:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26899273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breezered/pseuds/breezered
Summary: She’d seen mountains, deserts, snowy valleys. Rivers and oceans, and lakes so large they might as well be oceans. The wide-open plains, with herds of bison roaming freely, skies that carried on forever.But, sure as the sun rises in the east, civilization had started to push further and further west. Railroads were being constructed, their lines encroaching into the wilds. Telegraph wires started to line the horizon, growing so thick in some cities that it felt like they could block out the sun.A small mountain town had seemed like a good bet.
Relationships: Dina/Ellie (The Last of Us)
Series: TLAU: The Last Alternate Universe [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1917013
Comments: 40
Kudos: 151





	1. Chapter 1

**Winter 1873 – Boston, MA**

Joel Miller loads the last crate onto the cart, dusting his hands on his pants as he steps back. It’s a warm day for January, but his breath still fogs in front of him. Turning his collar up, the man leans against the side of wagon. He can hear Tess inside the general store, laughing with the shopkeeper.

The job had been easy so far. Bill’s lead had been good, and with the city in the ruined state it was after the fire, there were no lawmen loitering around looking for trouble. Big cities gave him the willies, but it was easy to get lost in the crowds even when he sticks out like sore thumb. His sheepskin jacket is well-worn and repaired, wool trousers faded where they stick out from his boots. The hat on his head is patched and beaten, years of being on the road having been unkind to it.

Tess comes out of the store with a burlap sack over her shoulder, and the man pushes off the cart.

“You do alright in there?” Joel asks, taking the sack and tossing it into the back of the wagon.

“I always do,” Tess counters, and he grins. They’d been running together for a couple years now, after Tess had come to his aid in a tense saloon brawl, knocking heads together and throwing more than her fair share of men into the mud.

“Let’s git, then,” Joel says, climbing up onto the wagon’s bench and grabbing the reins. Tess climbs up beside him and Joel clicks his tongue in his cheek, snapping the reins lightly. The shire snorts and walks on, iron shoes clicking on the cobblestone streets.

Boston is in ruins. A great fire had swept through the city, turning whole city blocks to ashes and rubble. As they drive through the streets, there are people everywhere, destitute and begging. The wealthier population walks on by them in their silks and fineries.

“Some civilised city,” Joel mutters under his breath as he sees a gentleman step over the shaking body of a young woman.

“The faster we put this place behind us, the happier I’ll be,” Tess says. Joel grunts his agreement.

The city thins out, and once the road beneath them turns from stone to snow, the wheels of the wagon falling into well-packed ruts, Joel urges the horse on. Without the insulation of the city, the wind has picked up, and Joel hunches his shoulders against it, trying to cover his ears with the woolly collar of his coat.

It’s not long before they run into a federal checkpoint. These had started becoming more and more frequent in the past years, a government response to the expansion of the west. They tried to control things, to law some of law on the lawless men and women who traveled west.

“Play it cool,” Tess whispers. Joel rolls his eyes.

A man dressed in a fine wool frock stops the wagon. “Good morning,” he says, “how are you folks doing this fine morning?”

“Oh, just fine,” Joel answers with a fake smile. The weight of his revolver is comforting where it sits in the holster at his hip.

“Where are you headed today?” The man asks.

“We’re moving out west,” Joel says, “heard there’s some real fine land out in the mountains just waiting for homesteaders such as ourselves.”

“You don’t sound like you’re from around here,” the agent says, and Joel curses his drawling accent.

“I grew up down in Texas,” Joel says, “but moved up here to work in the factories.”

The man looks at him, eyes narrowed. Joel keeps a small smile on his lips.

“Sir, is this really necessary?” Tess asks, leaning around Joel and putting a hand on his chest. “It’s terribly cold, and we really need to make it to Framingham by nightfall or my sister will be awfully worried.”

Joel has to hide his amusement at Tess’s acting; so many men buy the damsel act without any questions asked.

“I’m sorry ma’am,” the agent says, “but I’m going to need to take a look in your wagon. Just a routine check for contraband and the like. Won’t take long.” He doesn’t wait for an answer, just walks around the back of the wagon. Joel’s hand rests on the butt of his gun, and he knows Tess is ready to draw. The other five agents don’t seem all that interested in them, all sitting around a fire in a lean-to.

The agent rustles through the back of the wagon. Nothing they have is strictly illegal, not in the crates they packed it into. Still, Joel sits tense and ready to draw.

“Sir?” The agent calls, and Joel turns in his seat.

“Yes, agent?”

“Is this your son?”

Joel frowns and looks at Tess, who avoids his eyes. The agent leans into the wagon and there’s the sound of cloth dragging on wood. Joel watches as the agent drags a skinny kid out of the back of the wagon, all ragged clothes and scraggly hair.

“Let go of me!” The kid yells, flailing their limbs around. The agent tosses the kid to the ground, and they stand up, holding the too-loose waistband of their trousers so they won’t fall down.

“Yes,” Tess says, too quickly, “yes, our son. He’s troubled, sir, very troubled. We’re hoping that our moving to the west will be a good character-building experience for him.”

“Boys these days are all trouble,” the agent agrees, looking the kid up and down. Joel nods along, keeping his mouth shut so he doesn’t blow their cover. The kid jumps up onto the back of the wagon, jostling it a little as the weight of his body lands.

“Don’t we know it,” Tess says with a laugh, fanning herself. “Now, agent, surely we can be on our way? Daylight is so scarce these days.”

“Of course, ma’am,” the agent says, coming back to the front of the wagon, “you folks have a safe journey.”

“Thank you,” Joel says, tipping his hat. He cracks the reins and the shire walks on, the wagon lurching over the bumpy snow.

Once they’re far out of sight, Joel looks over at Tess and glares. Tess ignores him, her eyes focused on the horizon.

“You wanna tell me what in the dang hell is goin’ on?” Joel snipes, and Tess sighs, like he’s some sort of nuisance for asking.

“I took an extra job,” Tess says, “for a _lot_ of extra money.”

“Jesus, Tess,” Joel sighs. He shakes his head and pinches the bridge of his nose. “A kid? So what now, we gotta take care of this kid all winter?”

“I can take care of myself,” the kid in question pipes up from the back of the wagon.

“Oh, sweet Jesus,” Joel mutters. He looks over his shoulder at where the kid is climbing on top of the crates to get to the front of the wagon. They pop their head between Joel and Tess, leaning their arms on the back on the bench, bony elbow digging into Joel’s arm.

“We’re just taking her to St. Louis,” Tess says, placing a placating hand on Joel’s arm.

“St. Louis?” Joel huffs and tightens his grip on the reins. “This better be worth it.”

“Well, I was given a pretty penny for taking her,” Tess looks at the kid between them. “Why do you need out of Boston so bad, anyways?”

“Wait a minute – _her_?” Joel’s brain clicks and catches up. He looks at the kid. “You’re a girl?”

“So?” The girl replies, cocking her head. “You got a problem with that?”

Joel sighs and looks back out at the snowy road. “Lord have mercy.”

“I’m a criminal,” the kid says, “like, a real hardened criminal. That’s why they needed me out of the city. The law was hot on my trail.”

“Oh yeah?” Tess has an amused smile on her face. “What did you do that was so bad?”

“I’d tell you,” the girl says with a grin, “but then I’d have to kill you.”

\--

**Spring, 1879; Jackson, WY**

“Here we are,” Maria says, pushing open the door to a small cabin. Ellie follows her inside. It’s not much, just one room with a bed in one corner and a woodstove in the other. There’s a shelf with canned foods that sits above a washing basin. The walls are bare, and a layer of dust coats everything.

“This is perfect,” Ellie says, running her hand along the wall as she walks around the cabin. It feels perfect, to have a place of her own. To have a roof over her head.

“Now, it might need some sprucing up,” Maria warns her, “but if you earn your keep, I’m sure folk won’t mind one bit coming here to help you out.”

Ellie nods and holds out her hand. “Thank you, Maria. Truly.” Maria shakes her hand with a smile.

“Ain’t nothing,” Maria says. “Now, I’ll be sending someone over to show you the ropes, take you on a tour ‘round the town. Tomorrow, I’ll have you get to work.”

“Sounds good,” Ellie says. Maria stands in the doorway, pausing to turn back.

“And Ellie?” Maria fixes her with a calculating stare. “This is a town of second chances. But we don’t hand out thirds. You clear on that?"

Ellie nods, tucking her thumbs into the waist of her trousers. “Clear as crystal.” Maria nods and heads outside, the screened door swinging shut behind her.

Letting out a big breath, Ellie sits down on the bed. The mattress is lumpy, little more than a sack stuffed full of straw. Still, it’s more comfortable than the bedroll she’s grown used to, and with a contented sigh, Ellie lies down and folds her arms under her head.

Jackson had been the last place she thought she’d end up. Since Boston, Ellie had thrived on a very nomadic lifestyle. She’d seen mountains, deserts, snowy valleys. Rivers and oceans, and lakes so large they might as well _be_ oceans. The wide-open plains, with herds of bison roaming freely, skies that carried on forever.

But, sure as the sun rises in the east, civilization had started to push further and further west. Railroads were being constructed, their lines encroaching into the wilds. Telegraph wires started to line the horizon, growing so thick in some cities that it felt like they could block out the sun.

A small mountain town seemed like a good bet. At least, that’s what Joel had said. Ellie noticed the grey in his beard, the weary way his body moved after a long day of riding, and she had agreed.

It wasn’t much to look at. One main street with a handful of store fronts. A cluster of small homes. A little less than a mile away was a big ranch, run by Joel’s brother, Tommy. Maria, she was Tommy’s wife and the unofficial mayor of Jackson. Her father had passed some time ago, and the small population had looked to her to help them carry on.

Ellie knows all this from the stories Joel would tell on the road. Now, actually meeting Maria, she hadn’t been prepared for the older woman’s firm and no-nonsense personality, although she probably should have expected it.

A knock on the door breaks Ellie out of her reverie. She heaves herself off the bed and brushes some stray straw off the back of her trousers. Opening the door, Ellie finds herself face to face with a young woman about her age.

She’s dressed in trousers, like Ellie, and a red overshirt is unbuttoned low enough that Ellie can trace the line of her clavicle and see the beginning of softer skin below. Well-worn boots are pulled over the legs of her trousers, which on closer inspection, seem to be that new denim type of material. Dark hair falls in a long braid, and Ellie feels absolutely petrified by how beautiful this woman is.

“You’re Ellie, right?” The woman says, and she offers up a pleasant smile.

“I’m Ellie,” Ellie repeats, and she tries to shake off the cobwebs that have decided to cover her brain.

“Maria asked me to show you around,” the girl says, holding out her hand, “I’m Dina.”

Ellie takes her hand, shaking it slowly. She can feel calluses on Dina’s palm. “Oh, sure. It’s uh, it’s real nice of you to do that.” Ellie drops her hand and steps outside, letting the door shut behind her.

“No trouble at all,” Dina says, and Ellie follows her down the short steps. “So, you came here with Tommy’s brother?”

“Joel,” Ellie fills in. She tucks her hands into her pockets as they walk, the dirt road turned to mud from the spring rain. Ellie watches as her boots sink into it, squelching unpleasantly.

“Where did you come from, if you don’t mind me asking?” Dina is still giving her a small, encouraging smile. It draws words from Ellie’s mouth like a fly to honey.

“Uh, I’m from Boston,” Ellie says, “but I left when I was younger. Traveled all around.”

“What’s your favourite place you’ve been?” Dina asks.Ellie shrugs. “I dunno.”

“Think on it,” Dina says, “I bet you have some wild stories.” Ellie smiles, looking down at her boots.

“How about yourself?” Ellie asks. “You from around here?”

“Past four or so years,” Dina says with a nod. “I came up here from New Mexico Territory. You ever been there?”

“I’ve passed through,” Ellie says, “it’s beautiful country.” Dina hums an agreement, or maybe just an acknowledgement.

They round a corner, and the main street of Jackson comes into view. Ellie takes it in, the wide street with the shop fronts. She can see a butcher, a general store, and a small doctor’s office. Dina leads her down the street, greeting people and introducing Ellie to them as they pass by. It seems like Dina knows everyone, though Ellie supposes she very well _may_ know everyone after being here for four years.

Ellie feels like she’s been introduced to a thousand people by the time she is sitting on her front steps with Dina that evening. Her little cabin faces west, the sun starting to set behind the mountains.

“Has Maria assigned you to a work detail?” Dina asks.

“No,” Ellie digs at the dirt with the toe of her boot, “she said I should meet her at the ranch, I think. I’ve never been there, though.”

“I’m on fence mending tomorrow,” Dina says, “I can take you over there if you’d like.”

“I don’t want to be any trouble,” Ellie tries to protest, but Dina waves her words away.

“Really, it’s no trouble at all,” she says with a kind smile, and Ellie feels a little flutter in her chest. “I’ll be here just after sunrise.”

“Thank you,” Ellie says, and her eyes feel caught in Dina’s. A smile of her own worms its way onto her lips.

Dina stands and takes a few steps away from the cabin, turning to look at Ellie. “It was a real pleasure, making your acquaintance.” She tips an imaginary hat, and Ellie snorts in amusement.

“Pleasure was all mine, miss,” Ellie replies, throwing on her best impression of Joel’s accent. Dina grins, her bottom lip getting caught between her teeth.

“I guess I’ll see you in the morning.” Dina turns and walks away, and Ellie’s breath catches as the setting sun frames Dina’s retreating silhouette in a heavenly light.

\--

**Summer, 1875; Harper, UT**

Joel holds his hand up. Behind him, Ellie comes to a halt. The sun is relentless, beating down on them.

“There’s no one here,” Ellie says, leaning against Callus. The horse snuffs and tries to headbutt her.

“Just because you can’t see ‘em,” Joel says, and Ellie sighs.

“Doesn’t mean they’re not there,” she finishes for him. She kicks at the dusty road, looking around at the empty buildings. “So, what now? We just stand here and wait for someone to shoot us?”

Joel looks over his shoulder and gives her a stern look. “You should watch your mouth or I’ll make _you_ go and search each building.” Ellie rolls her eyes, knowing full-well Joel would never let her do that.

“I’d do a damn good job if you did,” she says, patting the pistol that’s hanging from her belt.

Joel just turns away from her and adjusts his hat against the sun. “You stay put.”

“In the middle of an open street?” Ellie shakes her head and walks forward to stand next to him, Callus following obediently. “So, you _want_ me to get shot.”

“Daggum, girl, ain’t you always tellin’ me you can look after yourself?” Joel runs a hand over his face, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Well, yeah,” Ellie huffs, “but that’s why I think it would be pretty dumb of you to leave me standing here all alone.”

“Lord give me strength,” Joel mutters, and as he turns to face Ellie, a shot whizzes past his head. They both curse and duck, scrambling to get off the road. Callus is in a state, stomping his feet and whinnying. Ellie drags him behind a building, trying to soothe him as Joel leans around the corner with his revolver.

“I goddamn _told_ you,” Ellie hisses.

Joel doesn’t reply, just checks around the corner again. Ellie knows he’s looking for the glint of a rifle in a window, or a bit of kicked up dust to pin down where the shooter is.

“That was a warning shot,” he mutters to himself, “no way you miss that kind of shot.”

“Unless you’re a bad shot,” Ellie adds. One look from Joel silences her. He holsters his gun and stands up, walking out from behind the building and holding his hands up. Ellie watches, her grip tight on Callus’s reins.

“My weapons are away!” Joel yells, dust swirling around his feet as he walks to the middle of the street. “I’m here looking for,” he pauses here, and Ellie hears him mutter something to himself, “for the light.”

\--

**Winter, 1881; Jackson, WY**

Her fingers are stiff with cold as she packs her saddlebags. The leather groans as she stuffs food into the pouches, dried meat and preserved vegetables. The light from the candle on the table is dim, so dim that Ellie can hardly see what she’s packing.

Dina is waiting for her outside, and she can hear the horses huffing against the late hour and the cold night.

She cinches the bags shut, tossing them over her shoulder. The candle is blown out, and Ellie steps outside.

It’s the kind of night where your eyelashes freeze together, where your breath leaves you in a thick fog. Dina is trying to keep the two horses quiet, standing between them and simultaneously stroking their necks.

Ellie walks up to Shimmer and starts attaching her bags, double-checking the girth and strapping her bedroll to the back of the saddle.

“Hey,” Dina leans under Shimmer’s neck and holds out a revolver, “I got your gun.”

“How?” Ellie asks, taking the weapon and holding it in both her hands. “Maria told me she locked it up.”

Dina shrugs and wiggles her fingers. “I’m full of surprises.”

Ellie wants to lean over and kiss her, breathe a thousand _thank you_ ’s into her mouth. Instead, she slides the revolver into her holster and pats it gently.

“We should get going,” Ellie says, unhitching Shimmer from the post and leading her in a turn, “before anyone notices.” She hoists herself up into the saddle, her boots fitting into the stirrups with ease and familiarity. Shimmer shifts on her feet at the added weight. Dina follows suit, mounting Japan and turning him to face the road out of town.

“West?” Dina asks. Ellie nods her confirmation. Dina squeezes her legs and Japan walks on.

Ellie pauses. She looks over her shoulder at the dark cabin, the tiny little room she had called home for the past two years. In the distance, she can barely make out the shape of the inner town’s rooftops.

“West,” Ellie repeats. She clicks her tongue in her cheek and Shimmer starts forward.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summer, 1879; Jackson, WY**

Sweat drips into Ellie’s eyes, stinging as she tries to wipe it away with the back of her hand. The smell of manure clogs up her nostrils, and she grunts as she dumps a shovelful of it in the nearby wheelbarrow. Her shirt sticks to her with sweat, every inch of her covered in it.

A loud whistle comes from behind her. Ellie turns and holds the shovel up, resting her boot on the top of the spade as she leans on the handle.

“You look like you’re having fun,” Dina says, a teasing grin dancing across her lips.

“Oh, it’s real fun,” Ellie says, “ankle deep in horse shit and sweating like a goddamn pig.” Dina laughs at that, and it fills Ellie’s chest with warmth.

“Well,” Dina hops up on the railing of the stall door, leaning over the top, “do you want to get out of here?”

“I wish I could,” Ellie makes a sweeping gesture with her arm at all the muck that’s still in the stall, “but I have to finish this or Tommy’ll…well, he’ll do something unpleasant, I’m sure of that.”

“I never pegged you for such a lily-livered rule-follower,” Dina says, and Ellie rolls her eyes at the corny accent Dina throws into her words. “Come _on_ , Ellie, it’s so hot and I’m tired of pretending I’m doing any work up in the hayloft.”

“We can’t all be such lazy workers.”

Dina reaches out and swings a fist at Ellie’s arm, the stall door rattling.

“It’s too hot to keep working,” Dina tries again, “look at you. You’re disgusting.”

“Do you think calling me disgusting is the best way to get me to go along with your crazy plan to skip work and get in shit?” Ellie hefts the shovel and takes another scoop of manure, chucking it into the wheelbarrow.

“Seems to me you’re already in shit.”

Ellie groans. Dina’s smile is toothy and wide, looking far too pleased with herself for the quality of the joke she just made.

“You gonna leave me alone so I can finish this up?” Ellie asks.

Dina shakes her head, “No, I think I’ll just stand here and bother you until you come to your senses.” Ellie sighs.

“You don’t think Tommy will be mad?” Ellie asks, twirling the shovel in her hands.

With a shrug, Dina unlatches the stall door and it swings open, taking her out into the corridor with it. “Only one way to find out!”

Sighing and chastising herself for being so powerless to Dina’s will, Ellie props the shovel up against the wall of the stall and stepping out into the corridor. With Dina still standing on the door, Ellie gives it a push and latches it shut.

“There you are,” Dina teases as she hops off the door. Ellie tosses her gloves on the workbench, raking her sweaty hair back from her forehead and pulling it back into a small knot at the nape of her neck.

“What’s so important that you’re dragging me away from my job?” Ellie asks as Dina leads her out of the stable. The sun beats down, hot and burning where it touches Ellie’s face.

“There’s only one way to ride out a heatwave,” Dina says. They walk through the ranch, Dina waving cheerily at the other people who are still working. Ellie waits by the gate while Dina chats with a tall man who is leaning up against the fence he’s mending.

There’s no breeze today, the heat sticking to her like tree sap. She untucks her shirt, flapping it to try and get some semblance of wind on her skin, anything to dry the coating of sweat that encases her body.

When Dina returns, Ellie looks her up and down. “How the hell are you not dying of heat?”

“I’m from the desert,” Dina says with a shrug, “this ain’t nothing compared to high noon in New Mexico.”

“I hate you,” Ellie grumbles.

“It’s okay,” Dina says, patting a dry spot on Ellie’s shoulder, “you’re still cute when you’re all sweaty.”

“Okay,” Ellie mumbles, hoping the heat in her cheeks is disguised by the rosy heat from the sun.

“C’mon,” Dina starts walking down the path, “let’s get ourselves cooled down.”

Ellie follows her, up the hill and through the pines. The earth is dry, and their footsteps kick up dust as they walk. It’s so hot that even the birds seem to have disappeared, and as the trees thicken and the forest deepens, so do the insects. They’re both swatting at mosquitoes, blackflies, horseflies, you name it.

“So far,” Ellie calls out as she squashes a fly against her neck, “this is worse than mucking, Dina.”

“We’re almost there,” Dina replies. She holds a branch back as Ellie passes. “You’re such a princess.”

“Am not,” Ellie counters, “I just don’t like being eaten alive.”

“Princess,” Dina teases. The smell of saddle soap wafts as she breezes by, and Ellie has to take a deep breath to compose herself.

“You planning on murdering me out here?” Ellie asks, stepping over a fallen tree.

“Yes,” Dina laughs, “I am. That’s been my plan since we met two months ago. Definitely couldn’t have killed you any other time. Since we’re never alone together.”

Ellie can’t see her face, but she knows the other girl is rolling her eyes sky-high. “Just figured I should ask.”

Dina disappears between a crack in some rocks. Ellie follows, and the sound of gently flowing water reaches her ears. The rock is cool where it slides against the skin of her forearms.

“You stuck in there?” Dina’s face appears at the end of the crevice. Ellie rolls her eyes, inching through the passage until she’s out through the other side.

Before her is a creek, running softly through the earth. It babbles as it falls down the rocks above, splashing gently as it lands. Dina is already pulling off her boots and untucking her shirt. Ellie walks to the water’s edge and bends down, dipping her fingers in the clear water.

“Worth it?” Ellie turns at the sound of Dina’s voice, quickly averting her eyes as Dina undoes her belt and shimmies her trousers down her legs.

“Uh huh,” Ellie answers dumbly. Dina chucks her trousers aside and Ellie tries really hard to not stare at the exposed skin of Dina’s lower legs, the way her combination cinches in around her waist, the skin of her breasts visible where the corseted bodice pushes them up.

“Well?” Dina walks up to her and tugs at her collar. “You getting in with me?”

“Right,” Ellie clears her throat and starts undoing her belt as she kicks off her boots. Dina gives her a smile and wades into the stream. Stripping down to her undershirt and drawers, neither a women’s garment, Ellie follows her into the water and mimics her as Dina lies down in the stream.

The water is cool as it washes over her body, and Ellie sighs happily. The sweat from the morning’s work washes away, and Ellie closes her eyes against the sunlight.

\--

**Autumn, 1976; Shores of the Arkansas River**

The fire crackles, the smell of cooking fish permeating the air. Joel sits across the campfire from Ellie, leaning back on a log. The sounds of the river echo around the rocky shores, sheer cliffs rising from the earth.

“I’m starving,” Ellie groans. “Can you cook any faster?” She pokes the fire with a stick, the embers glowing as a log falls, sparks kicking up into the sky.

“Can you learn patience?” Joel counters back, the lit end of his cigarette flashing as he breathes in the smoke.

Ellie huffs, sitting back on her heels. “I’m sick of fish.”

“Feel free to go find something else to eat, then,” he mumbles. Ellie rolls her eyes and tugs her jacket tightly around her body.

“Too cold,” she says. She sighs and sits down on her bedroll, the tops of her knees warm where they point at the flames. They sit in silence after that, until the fish is cooked and Joel is cutting it into two pieces. Ellie stares at the piece on her metal dish, poking it with her knife.

“Eat up,” Joel says, “we’ve got a long ride tomorrow.” Metal clinks on metal as he cuts up his fish.

“Where are we headed?” Ellie picks apart the flaky meat with her fingers, popping a few pieces in her mouth. It’s gritty and plain, but not the worst thing she’s ever eaten in her life.

“South,” Joel says through a mouthful of fish, “I’ve got a friend down by the Rio Grande who usually has work.”

“Smuggling?”

“Likely,” Joel says, tossing a few bones aside. Ellie chews thoughtfully, watching the flames dance into the inky black above.

“You know it’s not pronounced like that, right?” Ellie says.

“What’s that?” He narrows his eyes at her across the fire.

“It’s ree-oh,” Ellie says, “you called it the Rye-oh. It’s Spanish.”

“Is that so,” Joel says, and Ellie can see him hiding a smirk under his beard.

“It is,” Ellie says with a frown. “Why are you laughing?”

“I’m not laughin’,” Joel says, but there’s crinkled skin around his eyes that proves otherwise.

“You are!” Ellie flings a small bone across the fire at him. She can’t tell if it hits the mark. Joel chuckles, scratching at his chin.

“I didn’t know you spoke Spanish,” he says.

“I don’t,” Ellie answers, “but I know enough to know it’s not the damn Rye-oh. Aren’t you _from_ Texas?”

“What, so that means I gotta know Spanish?” Joel snipes back, a good-natured grin on his lips, half-hidden under his moustache. “No com-pren-day, amigo.”

Ellie rolls her eyes. “You’d think you’d want to know Spanish, you could do more business with Spanish-speaking people ‘round here.”

“Ain’t that why I got you?” Joel teases, wiping his knife off on his pantleg. Ellie snorts, but the smile that pushes onto her face is impossible to hold back.

\--

**Winter, 1881; Somewhere along Snake River, ID**

The hold of the steamboat smells like horse shit and coal. Straw sticks into Ellie’s back where she’s sitting against a haybale, the sound of the engine filling her ears as she rips up pieces of straw and chucks them at Shimmer’s hooves. Beside her, Dina is asleep, covered by a grimy woolen blanket.

They had managed to secure passage down Snake River on a freight steamer, paying off a stoker to let them sneak into the hold of the ship. It was dank and dark, but it beat having to ride through the winter weather outside.

Dina stirs, turning and nestling against Ellie’s arm. Ellie shifts, wrapping her arm around the other girl and leaning her head against the top of Dina’s.

“You’re still awake,” Dina mumbles.

“Yeah,” Ellie answers, her voice rough, “you should go back to sleep.”

“Believe me, I’m trying,” Dina says. Japan bends his neck down, bumping his nose against Dina and snuffling. She turns and reaches a hand out from under the blanket, stroking his nose and scratching his cheek. The gelding blows a breath through his lips, making that fluttery horse noise. Ellie watches their gentle interaction, and she looks at Shimmer.

Shimmer flicks her tail and takes a mouthful of straw.

“I’ve never been on a steamboat before,” Dina muses. “I wish we could go up to the deck.”

Ellie pulls her pocket watch out and shrugs. “I bet most of the crew is asleep.” Dina perks up at that.

“Really?” She tosses the blanket aside and grabs her coat, standing and pulling it over her shoulders.

Ellie stands with her and grabs her hat. Her fingers run over the brim lovingly, tracing the worn edges. She places it carefully on her head, the fit still a bit big. Joel’s head had been bigger than hers, but the extra wool she’d stuffed in had helped narrow it.

“C’mon,” Ellie walks around the horses, trailing her hands along their backs so they know where she is. Dina ducks under Japan’s neck, giving him a pat on his neck as she passes.

They walk through the hold, weaving around crates and trying to look as surreptitious as possible. A few stokers pass them by but pay them no mind. Ellie knows it will be the handful of guards will be the biggest problems, but she hopes that they’ll blend in well enough with the crew to go unnoticed.

They climb a set of stairs, the metal rattling under their steps, and Ellie struggles with the door, the hatch sticking. Dina steps in and shoulders it, and it opens with a metallic creak. Quickly, they step through the doorway, and the fresh air is the most heavenly scent in the world.

Dina leads Ellie around the deck until they reach the port side. Leaning over the railing together, Ellie slides over until their arms are pressed together, the body heat welcome in the frigid night. High above, the moon glows and casts an unearthly light across the water. The steamboat chugs along, the plains around them filled with the sound.

“It’s beautiful,” Dina breathes, her breath fogging out in front of them.

“Yeah,” Ellie looks over at Dina, the glow of the moon lighting up the smile on her lips, “it is.”

Dina looks at her out of the corner of her eye, and Ellie feels the warmth of her flushed cheeks, caught in her observation.

“Um,” Ellie rocks back on her heels, stretching her arms out on the railing, “do you want to keep looking around?”

Dina’s smile widens and she rolls her eyes. “Come on, stupid.” She pushes off the railing and her hand trails down Ellie’s back.

Ellie takes a deep breath as Dina walks away, bending over and staring down at her feet. “Fuck.”

\--

**Winter 1880; Jackson, WY**

Ellie’s eyes trace the curve of Dina’s profile, and her fingers replicate it on the paper. The glow of the woodstove is a perfect backlight.

“You almost done?” Dina asks.

“Don’t move,” Ellie reminds her for the millionth time. Dina huffs but holds her position. Ellie’s pencil scratches against the rough paper, as she adds some shadows to her drawing. “Okay, I’m done.”

Dina gets up and walks over to where Ellie is sitting at the table, leaning over her shoulders. The side of her face that presses against Ellie’s is warm from the stove, and it sends Ellie’s stomach into backflips.

“Looks good,” Dina says, “of course, you had a pretty beautiful subject. Makes your job easier.”

“Heaven help me,” Ellie says, rolling her eyes. Dina laughs, turning her head and pressing her lips to Ellie’s cheek.

“You’re good with your hands,” Dina mumbles, trailing kisses across Ellie’s skin until she reaches the corner of her lips. Ellie turns into her, their lips fitting together, chapped from the dry winter. Dina’s tongue slips past her lips, warm and heavy.

Ellie’s neck strains at the angle, trying to drink as much of Dina in as possible.

“What was that for?” Ellie asks when they pull apart.

Dina smiles and kisses her again, short and sweet. “For being you.”

“Well, aren’t you sweeter than honey,” Ellie teases her. Dina laughs and takes Ellie’s hand, pulling her up and across the small cabin to the bed. They lie down together, the blankets pull up to their chins. Dina’s hands slip under Ellie’s shirt, cold fingers making her hiss as they touch her skin.

“You gonna show me what else those hands can do?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The response to this story has blown me away. All of you are amazing and your comments mean the world. Updates will be about a week apart, judging from my current rate. 
> 
> Thank you for joining me on this jaunt!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summer, 1875; Harper, UT**

She can hear muffled voices through the wall. The words are unclear, but she can tell they’re yelling. Picking at the dirt under her fingernails, Ellie huffs. The scars that decorate her arms seem to glow in the dank room, lit by only one candle that flickers in the corner. Joel’s voice raises; she recognises the timbre. The scrap of fabric that hangs in front of the small window flutters, dust kicking up with the breeze.

Ellie still doesn’t understand exactly why they’re here; she knows there’s something special about her, something that no one has ever taken the time to explain. This gang, the Fireflies, she’d heard about them since childhood. Stories about them were passed around reverently, stories about the people keeping the west free, holding off the encroaching law.

They sounded like heroes to her.

A gunshot rings out from the next room. Ellie jumps to her feet, cursing herself for giving up her weapon so easily. Four more shots, and then the door swings open. Joel stands there, his face splattered with blood. His revolver is still smoking.

“What the hell’s going on?” Ellie asks. Joel holds a finger to his lips and holds out a gun. Ellie takes it, giving him a puzzled look.

“Follow me,” Joel says, “and stay quiet.”

Ellie doesn’t question him, and she stays at his back, never more than two feet away. They wait behind the front door of the shack, listening to the sounds of commotion outside as the rest of the gang rouses, alerted by the gunshots. Joel peeks out and hisses a curse. With a wave of his hand, he directs Ellie to move.

They creep through the shack, both grabbing whatever supplies they can and staying low beneath the sills of the windows. Joel leads Ellie out an open window and into the dark desert. The night air is cool, dust blowing into their nostrils. Ellie pulls her neckerchief over her nose, squinting into the dark.

“Wait here,” Joel instructs, “I’ll be right back.” Ellie nods, crouching behind a stack of crates. She switches the safety of the stolen pistol on and off, staring up at the stars, counting the clicks until Joel returns.

Gunshots sound from within the shantytown. Ellie’s heart seizes in her chest, and she peers around the crates.

“Come on, Joel,” she whispers, “hurry.”

\--

**Spring 1879; Jackson, WY**

“You awake, Ellie?”

Dina’s voice shakes Ellie out of her daydreaming, drawing her gaze from the sunrise and to the other girl’s face. Brown eyes stare at her from under a quizzical brow, and Ellie clears her throat.

“Sorry,” she says, “just…it’s a beautiful sunrise.”

“It is,” Dina agrees, “but Tommy’s gonna hang us by our toes if we’re late.” Ellie nods, beginning to follow Dina down the trail that winds around the side of the hill. The ranch lies in a small valley, protected by foothills and bordered by a forest on one side, and a river on the other. Large plains spread out in the valley, cattle grazing in the fields.

The gate to the ranch is made of tree trunks, nailed and bound together. The name “Miller” is spelled out in the arch. Ellie averts her eyes, instead watching her feet pick up mud on the path.

“Do you know what Tommy has you doing today?” Dina asks, adjusting her hat against the rising sun.

“He didn’t say,” Ellie answers, “but if it’s mucking again, I’m going to save some shit for his hat.”

Dina laughs, and Ellie feels her cheeks flush. “I’m on shoeing. I’m the only hand Eugene apparently _doesn’t_ want to strangle.”

“I barely believe that,” Ellie teases, “I’m pretty sure that everyone wants to strangle you.” Dina reaches out and punches Ellie’s shoulder, pulling a small smile onto both their lips.

“You’ve only been here two weeks,” Dina reminds her, “what do you know?”

“Two weeks that have felt like years,” Ellie sighs. Dina rolls her eyes. Tommy is standing by a small paddock, used for training and breaking horses, and as Dina peels off with a tip of her hat, he waves Ellie over.

“Mornin’,” he greets, “you get enough rest?”

“I’m not late,” Ellie defends, “the sun is just…a bit ahead of me.”

Tommy makes a gruff noise in the back of his throat. “I’ve got a special job for you today, if you’re up for it.”

“Sure,” Ellie says, tucking her hands into the pockets of her trousers, “I’m up for it.”

“We’ve got a young mare who needs training,” Tommy says. “Joel tells me you’re quite the equestrian.” Ellie shrugs, joining Tommy at the fence. A ranch hand is leading a chestnut quarter horse in the ring, the horse walking steadily behind him on the lead.

“This her?” Ellie asks. Tommy nods, and Ellie frowns. “She looks pretty tame.”

“We just need someone to get her used to being ridden,” Tommy explains, “and I thought you might want to try your hand. But, if you ain’t interested, I’m sure there’s more stalls that could use some mucking.”

“No!” Ellie exclaims, and Tommy looks over at her with a raised eyebrow. “I mean, I’d like to try. I’d be happy to.”

“Alright then,” Tommy says, clapping a hand to her shoulder, “hop in there. Danny, pass her over to Ellie here.” Ellie climbs over the fence, mud kicking up as she lands. Danny leads the horse over and passes the lead to Ellie. The rope is rough in her hands, and Ellie approaches the horse calmly.

“Hey girl,” she says softly, “how you doing?” She makes sure to stay in the horse’s line of sight, careful not to spook her. Her free hand lends gently on the horse’s neck, stroking her slowly. “I’m Ellie. I’m hoping you’ll let me ride you someday, but there’s no rush, okay? You just take your time.” The horse blows air through her lips, and Ellie smiles.

“You gon’ be okay if I head out for a bit?” Tommy asks, and Ellie nods. “Alright then. Be careful now, because if my big brother finds out I let you get kicked in the head by a horse, he’ll shoot the head clean off my neck.”

“Sure thing,” Ellie laughs. “Oh, wait!” Tommy pauses, turning back to look at her. “Does she have a name?”

Tommy shrugs. “Don’t know. Feel free to come up with one.” He tips his hat to her and walks away.

“Okay,” Ellie steps back and runs her hand down the horse’s forelock and nose, “let’s get started.” The horse snorts and stamps her foot. Ellie smiles and tugs on the lead, the horse dutifully following behind her.

\--

**Winter 1881; a day’s ride from Boise, ID**

Ellie sits astride Shimmer, watching the steamer float away down the river. They’d jumped ship before it reached the coming logjam, on the advice of the stoker. Beside her, Dina is lighting a cigarette and taking a deep breath. The smoke looks thick in the winter air, and Ellie can’t help the way Dina’s lips draw her gaze.

“You got an extra?” Ellie asks. Dina nods, using her legs to urge Japan closer to Ellie and Shimmer, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a pack. She hands one to Ellie, striking a match along a strip on Japan’s saddle. Cupping the flame, she holds it to the end of Ellie’s cigarette until it lights, Ellie inhaling to help the embers catch. The burned out match is tossed to the ground.

“We shouldn’t sit around too long,” Dina says, “we need to make it to Puebla before nightfall.” Ellie nods her agreement, using one hand to turn Shimmer to face the road, squeezing her legs to get her walking. The horse’s breath fogs, the dull gray of the cloudy winter sky a morose backdrop.

“How are you feeling?” Ellie asks.

“I’m fine, Ellie,” Dina reassures, “it was just a cold, honest.” Ellie frowns, remembering the nights of feverish sleep that Dina had.

“You don’t need to pretend to be all tough with me,” Ellie reminds her, echoing words that Dina had said so often to Ellie since they’d met.

“I’m not,” Dina smiles and leans over, her hand resting on Ellie’s thigh for a moment, “I’m fine.”

“I just,” Ellie purses her lips, “I would feel bad if you got sick because of me. It’s because of me we’re out here, freezing our tails off in the middle of nowhere.”

“And I told you,” Dina corrects Japan’s course a little, “I wasn’t going to let you do this alone. You’ll need me, I’m a way better shot than you.” The grin she flashes at Ellie lifts her spirits a little and pulls at the corners of Ellie’s mouth.

“You wish,” Ellie replies.

“Oh, you wanna do this again?” Dina asks, patting the repeater that sits in the holster on her saddle. “I have no qualms with humiliating you all over again.”

“I don’t remember it being a humiliation,” Ellie says, “I think it was a pretty close competition.”

“Will it make you happier if I just agree to humour your little fantasy?” Dina says with a dramatic sigh. Ellie rolls her eyes, but the smile on her face is hard to get rid of.

They ride all day, the horses keeping up a steady pace. They ride west until they reach the Owhyee River, following it south as the terrain grows flatter and more barren. The sun peeks out through the clouds as it begins to set. Ellie spends most of the ride doing anything to keep her mind off of where this trip is going to take them. She focuses on Dina, on the stories she tells to pass the time, and on the way she keeps smiling at her, consciously or unconsciously keeping Ellie’s spirits out of the dirt.

Puebla is a small town, and they see it nearly an hour before they arrive, sticking up from the flat earth like a scar on the horizon. Ellie feels her nerves rise as they draw nearer to the town, the open landscape and unknown people making her feel uneasy. Dina leads them into town, riding down the main street. It’s quiet, the cold weather keeping most people inside.

The horses are hitched outside the small hotel, and Ellie waits with them while Dina heads inside to see about a room. She nods at the people who pass her by, clapping her hands together to try and keep the blood circulating.

Dina returns and leads Ellie and the horses round back to the stable. They take their time brushing their mounts and cleaning their tack. Dina steals a kiss from Ellie before they leave the stable, and Ellie carries the feeling of it in her heart as they go back to the hotel.

The room is small, the bed taking up most of the room.

“I’ve payed for a bath,” Dina says, “you want to join me?”

Ellie shakes her head, pulling a map out of her bags. “I’ve got to plan tomorrow’s ride.”

“Ellie,” Dina sighs.

“Enjoy your bath,” Ellie says, spreading the map on the bed and leaning over it. The door closes behind Dina, and Ellie takes a deep breath. She grabs a candle from the nearby side table and lights it. She holds it over the maps, tracing her finger over the lines of rivers and trails.

When Dina comes back, her skin warm from the bathwater, a pleasant scent of soap hanging around her, Ellie tucks the map away with a bit of hesitation. Dina pulls back the covers of the bed, climbing underneath them and patting the space next to her. Ellie takes off her boots and clothes, climbing into bed and lying next to Dina. The candle on the nightstand provides just enough light for them to see each other’s features in the dark room.

“You need to sleep,” Dina says, reaching a hand out and tucking some of Ellie’s hair behind her ear.

“I can’t,” Ellie admits, and Dina shuffles closer, legs twining with hers.

“Come here,” Dina encourages her with a gentle hand on the back of her head. Ellie bends to her will easily, as always. Their lips press together, soft and slow as they kiss. The feeling of Dina’s curves pressed to her own make Ellie’s heart race, and she sighs heavy against her lips.

“I should have had that bath,” Ellie admits.

“Tomorrow,” Dina says, “there’s always tomorrow.”

Ellie tucks her head against Dina’s shoulder, and falls asleep as Dina’s hand rubs gentle lines up and down her back.

\--

**Spring, 1873; Lake Erie, PA**

Joel watches as Ellie copies Tess’s movements, trying her hand at making a rabbit snare. The two of them are laughing as Ellie makes another mistake, Tess gently correcting her. Joel huffs and stokes the campfire. Winter had finally left, and he was happy to be camping outdoors instead of constantly on the lookout for someplace to stay.

“You two gonna set any of those traps?” He calls out to them, “or should I just keep this fire warm until next week when we’ll actually have something to eat?”

“Stop being such a sourpuss,” Tess shoots back at him, “you’ve got plenty of meat to burn off before you starve.” Ellie laughs at that, and Joel glowers at them.

“I just don’t want to hear anymore gripin’ about being hungry from the kid,” Joel defends.

“I’m growing,” Ellie says, “I’m supposed to be hungry. You’re just going to get wider, not taller.”

“Watch your mouth,” Joel warns. He controls his expression, not willing to let Ellie know that he sometimes finds her amusing. If she knew, she’d never shut up, and it’s hard enough to get her to quiet down as it is.

“Come on, Ellie,” Tess says, “let’s go set some traps before Joel decides to eat _us_ for lunch.”

Joel watches them go, the silence that lingers behind a welcome relief. He pokes at the fire again before standing and going to the wagon. A bit of digging and rearranging, and he’s sat back at the fire, his guitar in his hands. He tunes the strings, wishing he had some new ones. The intonation is off, the change in weather sending the wood into shift.

The notes ring out in the quiet clearing, the gentle lapping of the water on the shore a steady rhythm. He hums softly as he plays, staring out across the water.

“I didn’t know you played guitar.” Ellie’s voice draws his attention, and his fingers pause, muting the strings.

“Shouldn’t you be out there with Tess?” He asks.

“She said I was being too noisy,” Ellie shrugs, “I’m not used to walking in the woods. Too many sticks to step on and break.” She sits across the fire from him, staring quizzically at his hands. “How does it work?”

“Walking quietly?”

“The guitar,” Ellie corrects him with a big roll of her eyes.

“Well,” Joel looks at the instrument in his hands, “you pluck the strings, and music comes out of them. These things up here, these are frets. You just press on them, and the note changes.”

“That’s interesting,” Ellie says, “I wonder how that works.”

“Hell if I know,” Joel says with a shrug.

“Do you think,” Ellie looks down at her hands, suddenly bashful, “do you think you could teach me sometime? I’ve always liked music.”

Joel looks at her, stunned into silence before nodding his head. “Sure,” he says, “I could do that.” Ellie gives him a big smile, and Joel ignores the warmth he feels in his chest. “I’ll also teach you how to walk in the woods, considering I don’t want to starve out here.”

Ellie laughs and tosses a stick on the fire. The sparks fly up to the sky, and Joel begins the song again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And up! Thank you again for your support on this story, I'm enjoying it so much and I'm glad I've got friends along for the ride :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Autumn 1879; Jackson, WY**

Ellie sits on the front steps of her cabin, gently picking away at her guitar. The sun is beginning to set behind the mountains, casting the valley below in a hazy pink light. The sound of the guitar is swept up by the breeze. She hums under her breath, a tune Joel had taught her a few years back.

“Sounds good,” a familiar voice calls out. Ellie looks up from the neck of the guitar and lands her eyes on Dina. She’s approaching slowly, hands shoved in the pockets of her coat.

“It’s nothin’,” Ellie replies.

“Well,” Dina stops a few feet from the steps, “I like it. Sounds familiar.”

“It’s uh, _Gentle Annie_ ,” Ellie says.

“Thou wilt come no more, Gentle Annie,” Dina recites, “like a flower, thy spirit did depart.” She smiles and looks down at her boots. Ellie thinks it might be the first time she’s seen Dina bashful. “My momma used to sing it to us, I think.”

“Seems like a sad song to sing to a kid,” Ellie says. Dina’s smile falters as she shrugs her shoulders.

“There wasn’t always a whole lot to be happy about,” she says.

“I’m sorry,” Ellie mumbles, “that was rude of me.”

“No,” Dina sighs and moves to sit next to Ellie, one step below, “that’s alright.”

They sit in silence, both staring out at the pink sky. There’s a churning in Ellie’s gut, a feeling she can’t find the words to express.

“You gonna play it for me?” Dina asks, leaning over and bumping Ellie’s knee with her elbow. “Do I need to pay you? I’ve got a nickel somewhere in my pockets, you want that?” She’s teasing, and Ellie rolls her eyes.

“I’d play if you ever stopped talking,” she says with a pointed look. Dina claps a hand over her mouth. Ellie shakes her head at the other girl’s antics, but she takes a steadying breath and finds the chords, her right hand dancing over the strings. “You singing it for me?”

“Oh, you don’t want to hear me sing,” Dina says with a laugh, “I’m no songbird. Joel tells me you’ve got a pretty voice, though.”

Ellie groans, her toe tapping inside her boot. “Fine. But no laughing, and you’ve gotta help me with the words.”

“Yes ma’am.” Dina turns so she’s facing Ellie, staring up at her. Ellie’s heart gallops in her chest, and she has to look away and focus on her fingers, unable to hold Dina’s gaze and form any semblance of a coherent thought.

“Thou wilt come no more, Gentle Annie,” Ellie sings, tentative, “like a flower, thy spirit did depart.” She clears her throat for the next line, “Thou art gone, alas, like the many,” her fingers fumble the chord and she corrects it quickly, “that have bloomed in the summer of my heart.”

\--

**Spring, 1877; a day’s ride north of Prescott, AZ**

There’s sand in her boots.

Actually, there’s sand in all of her clothes.

And her hair. Her mouth.

There’s just sand everywhere.

“Stop squirming,” Joel says from his spot beside her, lying flat on the ground as he looks through the scope of his rifle.

“I can’t help it,” Ellie hisses back, spitting and grimacing at the grainy texture that grinds between her teeth. “I hate the fucking desert.”

“If you don’t stop jawin’, I will send you back to camp and keep all the goddamn loot for myself,” Joel threatens. Ellie huffs but shuts her mouth, lifting her binoculars and peering at the road. She adjusts the bandana that sits over her mouth and nose.

The canyon below them is cast half in shadow, the morning sun still climbing on its way to high-noon. Joel scans the road, his rifle pointed at the mouth of the canyon. Ellie keeps watch at the other end of the road, where the gorge bends and the road disappears behind high rock.

“You sure this tip is any good?” Ellie asks after another quarter hour has passed.

Joel sighs and lowers his gun. “The tip is good, you’re just impatient.” He looks at her and furrows his brow. “Tell me what the steps are.”

“Again?” Ellie groans, but the stern look on Joel’s face is enough to bring her in line. “Once we see the coach at the mouth of the canyon, you’ll shoot the rock trap we set up. That’ll block them from going too far in, but they won’t see it until they’re too far to turn back. Then _you’ll_ also shoot the dynamite and close them in on both sides.” Ellie does another scan of the terrain. “We’ll get down there, hold ‘em up, take the cash, and then we’re back up the canyon. They’ll be too busy trying to get unstuck to follow.”

“Good,” Joel adjusts the butt of the rifle against his shoulder, “I’m glad you’ve been paying attention.”

“What do we do when they shoot at us?” Ellie asks. “I mean, I only ask because I don’t particularly want to die today.”

A shadow catches her eye, but it’s just a hawk soaring overhead.

“ _If_ they’re dumb enough to shoot back,” Joel says, “we’ll make ‘em regret it.”

Ellie nods, scanning the canyon. Joel looks back through his scope.

“Ah,” he mutters, “here we are.” Ellie swings her head around and peers through her binoculars.

The coach rambles into the gorge, and Ellie takes stock of the defenses. A shotgun messenger sits next to the driver, his gun shining in the sunlight. Two more men ride just behind the coach, the five-pointed stars gleaming proudly on the lapels of their jackets.

“Only four men?” Ellie mumbles.

“Could be more riding back,” Joel says, “but I don’t see them yet.” He steadies his gun, and Ellie knows he’s aiming at the carefully arranged rockfall. One shot will send the rocks tumbling down the far side of the canyon.

Anticipation builds in Ellie’s gut, an excited fluttering taking over her insides.

The shot is deafening.

The rocks fall, and the horses balk. The men look around, bewildered, and Ellie pushes herself to a crouch, making her way quietly down into the gorge. She takes cover behind a boulder.

The second shot sounds, and the dynamite explodes not a second later. More rocks fall, rumbling like thunder. The lawmen on horseback narrowly avoid being thrown or crushed.

Ellie looks to her left, and Joel is there. He pulls his hat down over his eyes and nods at her. She takes a deep breath and stands, drawing her twin pistols and pointing them at the driver and his companion.

“Howdy, folks,” Joel calls out, his revolvers trained on the two horsemen, “mighty fine day for a ride.”

Behind her bandana, Ellie grins.

\--

**Spring, 1873; Rising Sun, IN**

Joel pulls the reins until the wagon comes to a halt. Beside him, Ellie is picking dirt from the soles of her boots. Having left Tess back at camp, they had headed into the nearby town of Rising Sun to trade and stock up on supplies.

“I don’t see why you’re making me wear this,” Ellie grumbles, scratching at the flatcap that holds her hair off her neck.

Joel reaches over and swats her fingers away from the cap. “You think anyone is gonna take a little girl seriously? Leave that alone before you knock your hair loose.”

“They’d take me seriously if you gave me a gun.” He rolls his eyes at her griping, climbing down from the wagon bench.

“We’re here to perform legal business,” he reminds her, “not hold these fine people hostage and steal their money.” Ellie huffs and hops down on the other side of the wagon. “Now, make yourself useful and grab the furs from the back. I’ll meet you at the general store in ten minutes, that okay?”

“You’re gonna let me sell these all on my own?” She looks surprised, and Joel shrugs.

“Prove me right and get a fair price,” he says. Ellie grins and nods, rushing eagerly to unload the back of the wagon. “But don’t buy anything without me!” Ellie waves off his last words, her arms already full. Joel shakes his head and turns away, heading down the main street.

Rising Sun isn’t much to look at. Factory stacks rise up to touch the sky, smoke billowing and darkening the sky. The river is the only beautiful thing Joel can see, glistening in the sunlight.

He wanders down the avenue, hat pulled down the block the sun. His eyes scan the telegraph poles and store fronts for drawings of familiar faces – it’s been a while since he’s been in Indiana, but he knows he left a bounty behind him. He touches the brim of his hat in greeting when people nod to him, hoping to blend into the tapestry of everyday people.

Joel cuts through an alley, rounding the gunsmith and knocking on the green door at the back of the building.

A panel in the door slides open. “Who’s there?” Dark eyes peer out through the slot in the door.

“You fuckin’ know who I am,” Joel says.

“Son of a bitch,” the man behind the door says. He slams the panel shut, and Joel waits as the sound of numerous locks and bolts are opened. Finally the door swings open to reveal a heavyset man with slicked back hair.

“Hey Bill,” Joel greets, and Bill sighs.

“I’d been hoping they’d catch you somewhere on the way back here,” he grumbles, stepping aside and letting Joel past him. Joel takes off his hat and walks around the small room they’re in, running his hand along the shelves. Boxes of munitions are stacked up the ceiling, and he wonders who Bill is supplying for these days.

“We got the supplies for you,” Joel says. “Of course, there’s still the matter of our payment before I let you get your claws all over them.”

Bill slams the door shut and locks it. “Listen here, old-timer, I ain’t giving you shit until I see the goods, and they’re in my possession.”

“Oh, c’mon,” Joel sighs, “let’s not do this again. Every time, we have the same conversation. You show me the money, you give me the money, you get your shit.” He makes a show of pulling out his hunting knife and wiping the blade on his sleeve. “It’s easy as pie.”

“You don’t scare me, Joel Miller,” Bill hisses. Joel chuckles and whips around, throwing the knife so it lands a hairsbreadth from Bill’s ear, embedded in the wall. It bounces there for a moment, and the two men hold each other’s gaze. Bill swallows audibly.

“Should we go over it again?”

Shaking his head, Bill grabs his hat from a hook by the door. “I think I get your point.”

\--

**Winter 1881; Lake Abert, OR**

Ellie sits at the edge of the escarpment and stares out at the lake below. To the south, the Chewaucan River runs its course into the lake. Behind her, she can hear Dina humming as she starts up a fire.

With every mile that draws them nearer to the West, Ellie feels the pit of dread in her stomach grow. She knows they’re behind, and every time they stop for the night, she feels the weight of responsibility press heavier on her chest. The map in her breast pocket burns a hole in her chest.

“Ellie,” Dina calls out, “can you come help? I can’t get the fire started.”

“You know,” Ellie takes the tinderbox from Dina’s hands, “I think if we push on, we can make it to those mountains over there by nightfall. The days are getting longer now.”

Dina pauses where she’s digging around in her saddle bags. “I think it’s better we get a good rest,” she says, “we can get started early tomorrow and ride all day.”

“I just think we could make some serious ground,” Ellie continues, “we’re already days behind, and I don’t want to fall further behind.” The flint casts sparks onto the kindling. “We know where we’re headed, I think we can make it another two hours of riding.”

“The sun is already on its way to set,” Dina points out, “I don’t think it’ll make much difference if we do that now, or tomorrow morning.”

Ellie strikes the flint again, and finally the spark catches. She leans in and gently blows, helping the flames catch. Sitting back on her heels, she accepts the waterskin that Dina passes her, taking a long drink. “Do you not want to catch up to them?”

Dina sighs and sits beside Ellie, bringing one knee up to her chest. “I do, you know I do. I just think that getting eaten by a mountain lion will really put a damper on our plans.” She takes the waterskin back and sips from it. Ellie sits, crossing her legs and fixing her eyes resolutely on the fire. “Hey,” Dina puts her hand on Ellie’s knee, “it’s going to be okay. We’re going to find them.”

“Right,” Ellie sighs. She looks at Dina’s hand, then at the soft expression on her face. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Dina says, shuffling closer and draping an arm over Ellie’s shoulders, “I knew going into this that you’re a bit of an idiot.”

Ellie gasps and shoves Dina’s arm off of her shoulders, turning and tackling Dina to the ground. “You take that back, miss, or I will inflict a most _painful_ torture on you.” Dina laughs, struggling as Ellie grabs her wrists and pins them above her head.

“Oh, you wouldn’t have the stomach for torture,” Dina teases. Ellie rolls her eyes and leans down, stopping an inch away from Dina’s lips.

“You’d be surprised,” she whispers. Beneath her, Dina lifts her head and catches Ellie’s lips in hers. She melts into her, falling to her lips like autumn leaves. Dina’s hands slip from her grasp and cup her face, pulling her closer until she’s half on top of her. Her legs in the dirt, Ellie supports herself with one arm, her free hand resting on Dina’s abdomen. Their lips move languidly, the warmth of Dina’s tongue a comforting contrast to the chill in the air.

Ellie’s fingers slip the buttons of Dina’s jacket open, carefully undoing her shirt next. Dina shivers at her touch, her skin breaking out into gooseflesh. She sighs into Ellie’s mouth, whimpering when Ellie takes her bottom lip between her teeth.

“I think this is the opposite of torture,” Dina mumbles, tightening her fingers in Ellie’s hair.

“Do you want me to stop?” Ellie asks.

“No,” Dina tugs her back to her lips, her words muffled in the desperate way she pulls kisses from Ellie’s lips, “no, don’t you dare.”

Later, when the fire has become hot coals and they sit in the tent all wrapped in blankets and each other, Dina kisses Ellie and asks her to sing.

“I don’t think I have a song left in me,” Ellie mumbles.

“Oh, Ellie,” and Dina strokes her thumbs over Ellie’s cheekbones, “not even for me?”

She’s caught by Dina’s eyes, pulled into their darkness and their warmth. Leaning in and stealing one more kiss, Ellie closes her eyes.

“You remember that first night I played guitar for you?” She asks.

“I’ll never forget it as long as I live.”

Ellie smiles, small and broken. She takes a breath and lets the melody out, her voice shaking as she sings, “Thou wilt come no more, gentle Annie…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting this now for anyone who needs a little distraction from doom-scrolling. 
> 
> [This](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H6o936-i_Pk) is the song "Gentle Annie" that Ellie sings. It is SO hard to find songs that are period appropriate and not just wildly racist, so this is my best go. 
> 
> Stay strong out there, my friends.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeehaw! 
> 
> Fast and loose with history, but it's going to be a wild ride. Lots of the "historical" cowboy stuff is coming from Red Dead Redemption 2, because hooty hoo that game is amazing. 
> 
> I'm excited as hell to write this one. Hope you guys are with me!
> 
> Fic title from "Grace" by Rose Cousins, a fantastic Canadian singer-songwriter.


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